


Blue Roses

by Crashzero



Series: Junkrat and Symmetra Stories [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Don't know how I feel about this, F/M, Flower AU, Fluff and Angst, I Actually Wrote Something, Junkrat's Parents, based off a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crashzero/pseuds/Crashzero
Summary: Based off this prompt;"Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you've caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the "girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft" and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to you that we're on our way to a graveyard" AU





	Blue Roses

**Author's Note:**

> OK, this is the first work I've uploaded in a while, sorry about that. I got swamped with school work and I just couldn't find the urge to write. Until Now! Yay Me! Hope you enjoy this story that's based off the prompt in the summary (Sorry I couldn't think of anything to put into the summary) Anyway, Kudos and Comments Appreciated!
> 
> Also, sorry if you don't like the accent that I gave Junkrat (I pretty much didn't give him one). Being Australian (Yeah, I know Australian Sayings, and the stuff Junkrat says most of the time is NOT HOW AUSTRALIANS TALK. At least, most of us) I just couldn't imagine a good enough accent that is stereotypical of us Australian (No, we don't keep kangaroos as pets, or koalas or wombats). Anyways, enjoy the story!

Satya Vaswani had a problem. Yet another bunch of her flowers had disappeared, this time a group of beautiful yellow daisies that had been near ready to pick. She frowned as she inspected the neatly snapped stems left behind, trying to find anything that could help her find the culprit. Other than a small dark smudge, there was nothing. 

She stood up from her crouched position, putting a finger in front of her mouth as she tried to think of what to do in this situation. She could call the police, maybe set up a stakeout of some sort. But Satya was not that sort of person, liking to do things by herself and without any help from others. And besides, it wasn’t as if the culprit were stealing jewellery or anything. They were flowers, nothing more, nothing less. 

A small hum emanated from the petite woman as an idea sprang to mind. Maybe a stakeout wouldn’t be a bad idea. But maybe instead of calling the police force, who would no doubt over exaggerate the problem and fuss over it, she could set up a stakeout of her own. Having made up her mind, Satya entered her home and replaced her dirt-smudged apron and gloves with something more comfortable, a light blue tank top and jeans. 

She opened the curtains of the large window overlooking her garden and sat down in the armchair facing through it, her idea already slowly forming inside her thoughts. The thief always seemed to take the flowers at around 12 to 2 o’clock (she’d figured this out when she had gone out shopping for groceries and had come back, finding a bunch of her signature blue roses missing), so every day for the next week she decided she would to sit on this armchair and keep watch over her garden at these times. 

The thief also seemed to strike at least twice a week, so Satya was almost certain that she would seem him at least once. With her idea firmly seated in her mind, Satya looked at her schedule for the week, making sure that the times between 12 and 2 o’clock were free. Happy that they were, Satya decided to go shopping for some new magazines. It would likely be uneventful for the most parts of the following days, so she had to have some way of entertaining herself. 

By the time she got back to her home, it was late at night (She may have gotten slightly side-tracked when she saw those beautiful blue dresses). Once she had gone about her nightly ritual of making sure her flowers were watered and her curtains were closed, the woman settled into her plush bed, excited about the week to come, and within moments was peacefully slumbering as sleep overtook her.

-

The first day went by without incident, with Satya seeing no sign of the thief. The second day went by in much the same manner, as did the third and fourth. By the fifth day, Satya’s enthusiasm at finding the culprit had dwindled considerably as she settled herself into her armchair with yet another magazine in her lap. She let out a sigh of disappointment, but decided that she may as well sit here for the next two hours, just in case. 

Again, there was no sign of the thief in the first hour, and at around 1:30, Satya finally gave up, standing up from her chair and stretching her arms above her head. However, when she opened her eyes and looked out at her garden, she was surprised to see a lanky man examining a bunch of her poppies. She watched with wide eyes as he quickly picked one of the red flowers, and before she knew what she was doing, her legs had carried herself outside of the door.

“Hey!” she yelled as she stopped in front of the man. The thief seemed to jump out of his skin, quickly looking up from the poppy to stare into golden eyes. Satya had her hip cocked to the side and her hand firmly placed upon it, and the man thought she might have looked attractive in different circumstances. The man seemed to shake himself out of the stupor that he had seemed to be in, and with widened eyes looked from her to the flower in his hand and back to her. Quickly he raised his hands in surrender. 

“Look, look, I can explain,” he hurriedly said in a high-pitched voice, trying to placate the seemingly angry woman. Satya arched a single eyebrow at him. 

“There is no need to,” Satya said in her accented voice, and the man seemed to cave in on himself at her words.

“Okay, please don’t call the cops on me, I’ll explain everything, jus-.”

“Is she pretty?” The man stopped speaking suddenly as he was interrupted by the woman in front of him, instead opting to look at her in a confused way.

“What?” The man cautiously questioned, curious as to what the woman meant. 

“You know, the girl you’re taking those flowers to,” Satya went on, “I mean, obviously they’re for a girl, right? Why else would you be dressed like that.” The man looked down at himself. He had put some of that gel stuff in his hair and he was wearing his good jacket.

“No, no, that’s no-.”

 

“Well, you must introduce me to her. She must be very special to you if you keep taking my flowers every week and giving them to her,” Satya said as she waited on the man for a response. The mystery man (She still didn’t know his name) seemed to be confused. 

“No, no, listen.”

“It’s settled then. You are introducing me to this girl. Wait here and I’ll get my jacket,” Satya turned towards her home, “Oh, and also, put that poppy down, I’ll get a bouquet of my blue roses. They’re my specialty.” The man stood stuck to the spot as he watched the woman quickly enter her home. He looked down at the flower he still had clutched in his hand, and very slowly lowered himself and stood the flower up in the dirt. 

 

Once he stood back up, he saw the woman quickly locking the door behind her as she came back out holding a bouquet of flowers and her jacket. 

“Alright then,” she said as she handed him the flowers to hold so she could sling her jacket over her shoulders, “Lead the way.”

“What?” The man questioned, looking from the bouquet in his hands and back down at the woman standing next to him. Satya let out a sigh.

“You’re going to introduce me to the girl you’ve been giving my flowers to. Also, what’s your name? I’m tired of referring to you as the mystery man.”

“Aren’t you gonna call the cops on me?” The man suddenly burst out. He seemed to be nervous, stepping from one foot to another. Satya gave him a smile.

“No, I will not be calling the police. Too much trouble. Besides, my friends were getting sick of how many flowers I kept sending to them,” Satya stated as she looked up at the man. Now that she looked, she noticed that the man was actually quite tall, most likely around 6 foot 5, and had hands covered in what looked like soot (That explained the dark smudge). She clucked at him in disappointment. 

“What did I do?” He asked when she made a noise at him. He was still trying to comprehend why this woman wasn’t screaming at him to stop stealing her flowers.

“You’re getting smudges all over the bouquet,” she said. The man looked down at the blue paper wrapped around the flowers stalks, noticing that indeed, he had left smudges on it from his soot-covered hands. He let out a high-pitched giggle. 

“Oh, that’s fine,” he said as he looked back at her. The woman looked slightly annoyed at his response, but didn’t mention it again.

“Anyway,” she continued on, “You didn’t give me your name before.”

“Oh,” the man said, letting out another giggle, “Right. Name’s Jamison Fawkes. Nice to meet you, Miss?” 

“Satya Vaswani,” the woman answered, “Nice to meet you, Jamision Fawkes.” The now identified Jamision grinned at her, and she smiled back.

“Soooo, whadda we do now?” Jamison inquired. Satya let out a long sigh and pinched the bride of her nose.

“For the last time,” she said in an exasperated tone, “You are going to introduce me to the girl you have been giving my flowers to. Now, which way is it?” 

“No, no, now listen, there’s been a mist-.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want me to see her, you are going to introduce me to her. Unless you do want me to call the police?” Satya raised an eyebrow and smiled victoriously. At the mention of police, Jamison turned pale.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it, no need for police,” he hurriedly said. Satya’s smile grew wider.

“Okay then, now that that’s settled, which way is it?”

“Erm, this way, I guess,” Jamison said as he started down the pathway leading away from Satya’s home. They continued on their way, making twists and turns down different streets, all the while learning more about each other. Satya learnt that Jamison was an explosive technician, being given the name Junkrat by his friends because of his ability to make bombs and other explosives out of random junk. 

Jamison learnt that Satya had a passion for dancing, and was often referred to as Symmetra because of her perfect, symmetrical movements. They quickly became friends, and even exchanged phone numbers so that they could stay in contact. Eventually, the two lapsed into silence, instead choosing to just bask in each other’s company. However, soon after, the silence was broken as Jamison quietly said;

“We’re here.” 

Satya looked up from the leaves she had been mapping along the path, expecting to see a small, cute house where the girl Jamison most likely loved lived. Instead, she was met with a tall, grey-brick archway. Rusted fences ran along from its sides, and a sign adorned the right side of the fence. Written on it in neat black letters were five words.

 

Welcome to Maple Grove Cemetery. 

 

Satya looked up at Jamison with wide eyes. The man looked down at her with a sad smile, and strode under the archway into the graveyard. Satya, still shocked, followed with slow steps, quickly flicking her gaze from headstone to headstone. 

 

Oh no. 

 

After walking through the various different headstones, Jamison stopped at two simple ones at the end of the track they were on. Jamison looked sadly down at them, and when Satya caught up with him, she saw that tears were slowly starting to form in his eyes. He quickly wiped his arm across his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Satya looked down at the headstones standing upright in the ground, reading the slowly fading letters emblazoned upon them. 

 

Here lies Mrs Fawkes. Beloved Wife and Mother

Here lies Mr Fawkes. Loved Husband and Father

 

Satya looked up at Jamison, seeking confirmation. The tears starting to spill down his cheeks were confirmation enough. Soft sobs slowly wracked through his body, all the while trying to stop the tears. 

“Oh Jamison,” Satya said as she pulled the taller man into a hug, “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“They were perfect,” he whispered in a broken tone, “They were the best parents I could have asked for. But then the accident happened. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

This only prompted Satya to hold him closer and tighter, trying to muster all the affection and sentiment that she was feeling into this single hug. Later, when the tears had run out and the sobs had stopped racking Jamison’s body, the pair left the cemetery, the bouquet of blue roses laying peacefully between the two graves.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and Comments Appreciated!   
> p.s. Sorry about the abrupt ending, legit just wrote this in the past hour/hour and a half.


End file.
